


Undone

by LuckyWantsToKnow



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Haught Puns never get old, Nicole's had a bad day, Russian Sidecar motorcycle public shaming, Waverly likes to perform, Wynonna's got jokes, pussycat dolls - Freeform, smut ensues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:32:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyWantsToKnow/pseuds/LuckyWantsToKnow
Summary: Nicole doesn't like to lose control, but Wynonna knows just which buttons to push.  Waverly also knows what to do with buttons.





	Undone

Nicole stares helplessly at her police cruiser, slanted off of the roadway with steam rising from the hood. She’d just managed to pull over, and then bodily shoved the car out of the traffic lane, after a loud bang from the front end foretold the Crown Vic’s likely demise. She looks around, seeing only wide open desolate highway and a slowly setting sun. The low slung profile of Purgatory isn’t even visible on the horizon and a chill is settling in the air. With a deep sigh of resignation, Nicole thumbs her mic and calls in. 

  
“Haught here. My cruiser bit the dust out here on the Highway.”

 

After a few minutes the radio crackles to life with a reply.

 

“Copy Haught, stand by, we’ll send you out the tow truck.” 

 

Nicole sighs again, it’s almost 1700 hours and she’s tired and hungry, the snack she always keeps in her lunchbox isn’t nearly as appealing right now as the thought of the homemade manicotti Waverly had promised her for dinner that morning. She decides to take advantage of the waiting to do a few stretches and exercises around the car. Sitting on her butt all day isn’t going to help her keep her athletic figure and it’s cold out besides. 

 

Feeling a bit ridiculous in her uniform and winter parka, Nicole knocks out fifty squats and another fifty lunges. Her body warms up and she shrugs off the heavy coat. She’s just decided to take off her duty belt and do some jumping jacks when the radio crackles to life. 

 

“Hey Haught, we have a bit of a problem with the tow truck. Hardy broke the cable.”

 

Nicole doesn’t even want to ask what Champ Hardy was trying to do with the department’s only tow truck. She’s still not even sure why they took him on as a community service officer because he seems singularly unqualified to do any service for anyone other than himself, or to carry the title of officer in any capacity. She rolls her eyes, thinking perhaps she’s being a bit unfair, then replies. 

 

“I copy...so, is someone else coming out here?”

 

“Yeah so…” comes the reply “Everyone else is tied up right now but Wynonna says she can come pick you up. She’s on her way.”

 

Nicole huffs resignedly. At least Wynonna will have whiskey in the truck; she’s off the clock as soon as she locks up her patrol car and, well...this day sucks. Nicole unfastens her duty belt, slings it onto the seat of her cruiser, and starts her jumping jacks, one ear cocked towards town for the arrival of her savior. 

 

************

 

Nicole’s just decided to eat her apple slices and single serving of raw, unsalted almonds when she hears the sound of a motorcycle engine--and not the usual “potato-potato-potato-potato” of Wynonna’s Harley. She puts her tupperware down on the hood and leans into the cruiser, retrieving her pistol from her duty belt. Holding the gun loosely down by her side, Nicole stands in the V of the car door, waiting for whom- or whatever is coming her way. 

 

She relaxes when the familiar sight of Wynonna’s black helmet and flowing hair crests the rise of the road, already mildly annoyed the she won’t get to ride back in the truck, but does a double take when she sees Wynonna’s machine. 

 

A camouflage, matte finished, sidecar motorcycle with “Ural” badges on the sides of the tank. 

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Nicole mutters under her breath, as Wynonna flips up her helmet, displaying a gleeful grin. 

 

“Sup Haught Mess!” she crows, idling the Ural over to Nicole. She skillfully steers the bike off the road, then throws a lever, surprising Nicole when the industrial-sounding beast smoothly reverses through a three point turn to face the town. 

 

“What...whose is this?” Nicole stretches up to her full height, asking, “You didn’t steal this did you, Wynonna?” 

 

“In police work that’s known as  _ commandeering _ , not stealing,” Wynonna retorts, “And no I did not. I just thought it was about time I got a more useful vehicle. With the truck being banged up so bad and Waverly’s Jeep being so tiny, I figured we could use something with some cargo space!” She gestures proudly at the empty sidecar. “Just think how much judgy righteous indignation I can cram into this sidecar! Didn’t you need a ride somewhere, hmmm?”

 

Nicole rolls her head back, side to side, stretching her neck and shoulders, considering the implication of Wynonna’s offer. 

 

“You want me to ride back in that?...I’m the Sheriff of Purgatory,” she complains, disappointed that she failed to keep the whine out of her voice, knowing full well that Wynonna’s going to jump right on that, and of course she does because…

 

“...and as fitting your status, Sheriff Haughty McHigh Horse, I have brought you your very own helmet!” 

 

And Nicole can only cringe because what does Wynonna pull from the floorboards of the sidecar but a very bright pink helmet with the word “HELMET” in all capital letters along the side.

 

“How did you...what the fuck…” she stutters, and Wynonna looks at her innocently, an eyebrow raised.

 

  
“What is it, Haught?” she asks with uncharacteristic concern in her honey sweet tones. “You look like you just saw a ghost! Is there a demon behind me or something?” She pulls Peacemaker and enthusiastically points the revolver behind her, then out onto the range, while Nicole ducks with a “Jesus Wynonna, watch where you point that thing!”

 

Wynonna laughs loudly, “Oh relax Haught,” she teases, “I’m a professional.” Wynonna slips the gun back into the holster then and shoves the helmet towards Nicole. “Come on, gear up. Waverly will kill me if you come back with even one nick in you!” Wynonna guffaws loudly at her joke as Nicole gingerly snatches the pink monstrosity from her hands.

 

“You did this on purpose,” she mumbles, sliding the helmet onto her head. She takes advantage of the loud revving of the motorcycle to rant under her breath. “You deliberately picked out the stupidest, most garish helmet you could find...didn’t you  _ Wynonna _ ? And how the fuck you found this out is….”

 

Nicole realizes that Wynonna’s been looking at her for a couple minutes, a smirk affixed to her face. “What’s that Haught Blooded? Were you saying something?” Nicole shakes her head and makes to climb onto the pillion seat when Wynonna stops her with a hand to the chest.

 

“Um, what are you doing?” Wynonna asks, rhetorically. “That’s what this is for.” She gestures broadly at the sidecar as if unveiling a game show prize. 

 

“You. have. Got. to. Be. freaking. Kidding. Me.” Nicole grits out in response. “I am NOT riding in that thing.” 

 

Wynonna looks at her with scorn in her expression. “Nicole, listen, this has been fun but I don’t have all night. Waverly made manicotti and it’s hot right now. I have a fresh pint of JD waiting for me at the Homestead and you’re being super dramatic. Just get into the sidecar and let’s go home. You’re acting like I did all this on purpose but you’re the one with car trouble and no way back to town. Not everything is about you!” 

 

Chagrined, Nicole climbs into the sidecar and settles down. “Sorry Wynonna,” Nicole says, “You’re right. I’m just hangry and tired. I appreciate the ride,” and she pats Wynonna on the knee.

 

*********

 

About fifteen minutes later Nicole’s settled into a tired sort of zoned out state, lulled by the rhythmic thumping of the motor, when she notices that they’ve missed the turn off for the Homestead. She looks up at Wynonna but the black helmet shield obscures her face from any assessment.

  
  


“Umm, where are we going Wynonna?” Nicole calls loudly, tapping Wynonna’s leg to get her attention. Wynonna flips up her face shield and Nicole can see that she’s grinning.

 

“Oh yeah Nicole, sorry, I need to swing through town to pick up some...pudding. Pudding for after dinner. I have a serious hankering for pudding.” 

 

“Jesus Wynonna, seriously? Now?” Nicole groans, suddenly even more aware of her appearance as they roll over the railroad tracks into downtown Purgatory. “You couldn’t have dropped me off first?” 

 

“No can do Haught,” Wynonna replies, “but don’t worry, this won’t take long.”

 

Wynonna swings the Ural into a parking spot in front of the small grocery store along the main drag, and dismounts. Patting Nicole on the head she says, “Nicole, stay,” then saunters into the market, her helmet dangling from her wrist. 

 

Nicole sits back with a sigh, resigned to her fate of being paraded through Purgatory, her--Sheriff Nicole Haught, in a pink “Helmet” helmet, barely two feet off of the ground in Wynonna’s sidecar motorcycle. And as Wynonna returns to the motorcycle and tosses two packages of Jello pudding into her lap, she crosses her arms across her chest, loosening her grip just long enough to wave awkwardly at passersby on the sidewalk. 

 

“Ok Haught Wheels,” Wynonna quips. “We can go home now.”

 

*********

 

Nicole’s up and out of the sidecar before Wynonna’s even finished parking it, tearing the pink helmet off her head and tossing it onto the seat. But she’s too late; Waverly’s leaning on the porch railing and Nicole can see the mirthful glint in her eyes from the yard. 

 

“Oh heyyyy baby,” Waverly starts, “You look ador--” but Nicole cuts her off. 

 

“Do. Not. Start with me. Your sister drove me all through town in that stupid sidecar, with that stupid helmet...and wherever in the fuck did she get that? And then she detoured through the parking lot at Pussy Willows...no lie! Somehow, on the road home, she managed to find a huge mud puddle to go through which is now all over my uniform, and I’m hungry...and…” she stops herself when she sees the hurt look on Waverly’s face.

 

“I’m sorry Waves,” she says contritely, “You didn’t have anything to do with that. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Just let me change and I can help you get set up for dinner.”

 

“Everything’s ready, babe,” Waverly replies breezily, kissing her quickly on the jaw, “and I forgive you. Why don’t you take a quick shower though. You smell like manure, sweat, and exhaust.” 

  
  


NIcole undresses quickly. The food smells drifting from downstairs are maddening and she’s just so ready to slip into some comfortable clothes and enjoy a nice meal with Waverly. And if Wynonna happens to have to be there too, well, you have to pay to play right? She showers and washes her hair, and has to concede that Waverly was right; a warm shower feels decadent and her mood is improved dramatically as a result.

 

Stepping from the shower, she towels herself off and takes a few moments to moisturize her body and comb out her hair. She reaches automatically for the back of the door where her bathrobe normally hangs but turns to look when her fingers hit the wood. 

 

“Huh...that’s weird.”

 

Nicole steps out into Waverly’s bedroom and digs around in the drawer she’s claimed as her own, looking for a bra and underwear. She’s normally pretty meticulous about washing her clothing and keeping both something comfortable  _ and  _ something sexy over at the Homestead, but today she can only find a lacy black bra and matching panties. Not even her old PSD tee-shirts are to be found and the worn sweatpants she keeps in the closet are gone as well. 

 

“Goddamnit,” she mutters, “can nothing go right today?”

 

She looks around Waverly’s room for something, anything to put on that won’t be four inches too small in every direction, her gaze eventually landing on a pair of burgundy silk pajamas hanging on the doorknob. 

 

 _I don’t recognize these_ , _they_ _must be new_. The pajamas barely close around her breasts but she buttons them as best she can. _Maybe Wynonna’s?_ she thinks, looking at herself in the mirror. Nicole shrugs and heads downstairs.

 

“Baby, have you seen any of my clothes?” Nicole calls as she makes her way into the kitchen, “Did you move stuff?” 

 

Waverly’s just picked off a crisp end of the manicotti and popped it into her mouth; she turns to look at Nicole and inhales sharply, almost choking on the noodle. “Nicky...where did you get those pajamas?” She points at the swell of Nicole’s breasts practically spilling out of the pajama top. 

 

“Don’t get me wrong, babe, you look...delicious...but seriously, if you bought those I really appreciate it, but they are at least a size too small maybe…?” Waverly grins apologetically at Nicole, moving closer to soothe the insinuation with the run of a featherlight fingertip down her cleavage. 

 

“I obviously did not buy these pajamas Waverly,” Nicole insists snappishly, stepping back from the distraction that is Waverly touching her. She’s mad and she needs to get it out. “I looked through my drawer and all I could find was my sexy underwear,” and Waverly reaches for her again with a wink, saying “...which is a problem because?”

 

“No, no!” Nicole insists, stepping back, “Let me finish! All I could find was my sexy underwear and everything else is gone. And the only thing that wasn’t, is tiny-Amazon sized, and don’t get me wrong baby, I love my fun-sized girl... but the only thing I could find to wear for dinner was this pair of pajamas!” 

 

Nicole stops, breathing heavily. Waverly’s looking at her, head tilted, like she’s maybe going a little crazy? And after the day that Nicole’s had, that’s a very real possibility. She’s about to suggest that she should go home after dinner when Wynonna breezes into the kitchen, plucks a tomato slice from the top of the salad and leans back against the kitchen counter. 

 

“I like your jammies Haught, but aren’t they a little skimpy for dinner?”

 

“Have you seen my clothes, Wynonna?” Nicole asks, a little suspiciously. “Everything is missing out of my drawer.” 

 

_ “My drawer _ ,” Wynonna mouths at Waverly, but Waverly leans in to Nicole, wrapping around her arm and scowling at Wynonna. 

 

“Wynonna, have you done something with Nicole’s clothing?” Waverly asks warningly. 

 

“Oh uh, I thought I saw a mouse earlier. It ran across the hallway and into your room and I’m pretty sure it went into the top drawer of the dresser? So I took the clothes out and washed them. I was  _ trying _ to be nice.” Wynonna saunters over to the washing machine and opens the door, plucking out a soggy sweatpant leg. “Huh, it didn’t spin? Let me restart it.” And she re-sets the ancient washing machine for a cycle that Nicole knows takes almost two hours to complete.

 

“So yeah,  _ Nicole _ , I found those jammies in the decorations closet and figured they were yours. They look like something you might wear.”

 

Nicole flushes, looking down at the pajamas she rubs the fabric between her fingers, Waverly watching her closely. “Did you uh...find anything else in the decorations closet Wynonna?” she asks hesitantly. 

 

“Nothing much,” Wynonna concedes, “just that suitcase you left here that time we needed your trunk space to shove that guy into. Which I went though, and found only those pajamas and some old video DVDs.”

 

And with a smirk, Wynonna plops down at the table and dishes herself a healthy helping of manicotti. “What do you guys say to movie night after dinner?” 

 

*********

 

Nicole knows what’s coming when Wynonna slots the DVD into the player, but she’s not sure if Waverly does yet, so she tries to intervene. 

  
“Baby, hey...you look tired, do you want to just go to bed?” She tries, but Waverly just leans into her and wraps a blanket around her. 

 

“It’s still a good 45 minutes before we can put your clothes in the dryer Nic, let’s watch this independent film Wynonna found...Wyn...what is this anyhow?”

 

The gleam in Wynonna’s eyes is practically demonic when she turns back to Waverly and Nicole, pressing play on the remote control and starting the video. 

 

“Oh you’ll like this, guys,” Wynonna promises, “I can feel the satisfaction pumping through my veins.” 

 

The video commences with “Corey’s Bachelorette Weekend” flashing across the screen in gaudy sparkling special effects, followed by a twirling photo of eight young women posing outside of a sorority house. Nicole groans and hides her face in her hands.

 

“Is...is that you Nicole,” Waverly asks, leaning forward for a better view of the screen. “Oh my god, that’s you!” She points triumphantly at the woman farthest to the right of the group. Wynonna begins to cackle as Lana Del Rey’s version of ‘Young and Beautiful’ begins to play. 

 

“I found this in your suitcase Haught Greek! Why didn’t you tell us you were in a sorority?” 

 

Nicole can barely watch as the familiar video spools through scenes of herself and the other women screaming their way through a haunted house.

 

“I wasn’t,” Nicole grits out. “Corey is my cousin. She got married right before Halloween. All those sorority chicks were her Delta Delta Delta sisters...and then there was me. Corey and I grew up together but I barely saw her after about six years old. I think because I’m her only family member about that same age, she felt obligated to ask me to join her wedding party.” 

 

But even as Nicole gives a thoughtful and thorough explanation for her involvement in the video, no one is paying any attention because Wynonna pauses the screen on a shot of Nicole, wearing only a suspiciously familiar pair of open burgundy pajamas over some sexy black lingerie, a finger pointed in the face of a blond girl, in what looks like a hotel corridor. 

 

“What in the name of the Holy Donut am I looking at here, Tater Haught? What kind of haunted porno house is this?” 

 

“Do we have to do this, Wynonna?” Nicole hisses, feeling Waverly’s grip on her arm tighten slightly. But before she can protest further, Wynonna fast forwards to the next scene.

 

The videographer had pieced together a cheesy montage of the eight women, dressed in fluffy bridesmaids dresses, riding pink scooters throughout the city. Zooming in on each woman individually, the camera captures a grimacing Nicole in a bright pink helmet with “HELMET” written large across the side.

 

Eventually Wynonna’s laughter breaks through the rushing of hot blood in Nicole’s ears.

 

“....and then I watched the video and I COULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT I WAS SEEING. Queen Brisk of Bossytown herself in a bright-ass pink helmet and that ridiculous bridesmaid dress...and the pajamas...they’re too freaking small bish...like what is even happening in this video? And can you believe I can still buy that helmet on Amazon?”

 

“Oh Wynonna,” Nicole intones darkly, “You are one to talk about ridiculous. You’re singularly unqualified to...you know what?” Without verbalizing her unkind thought, Nicole stomps up the stairs to Waverly’s room. 

 

*********

 

Nicole’s had a day. She’s pissed and embarrassed and unhappy with the way she lost control of the situation with Wynonna. 

 

“It’s silly,” Nicole mutters to herself, “It’s Wynonna...what do I expect?”

 

“Talking to yourself?” Waverly asks from the doorway, and Nicole whips around to see Waverly leaning against the doorframe, smiling prettily with just a glint of mirth in her eyes. Nicole notes with interest that Waverly’s wearing a soft red flannel shirt over a white bandeau crop top; paired with Waverly’s skin tight high waisted jeans it’s one of Nicole’s favorite looks for Waverly and she’s not sure how she missed it earlier. 

 

“I’m, uhh...about that…I’m sor--” Nicole starts, but Waverly’s already stalking into the room towards her, and surprises Nicole by grasping her by the pajama lapels and pulling her into her own space. 

 

Waverly slides her palm up the side of Nicole’s neck and drags a finger over her lips. “You don’t like to lose control, do you, baby?” she asks quietly, drawing an exhale from Nicole. “It wasn’t very fair of Wynonna to blindside you like that….to tease you…”

 

“No,” Nicole whispers against Waverly’s finger, “I love her, Waverly, but sometimes I really want to kill Wynonna.”

 

“You know what would kill her?” Waverly prompts, a knowing look spreading across her features. “LIstening to your day have a happy ending.” And Nicole feels the adrenaline start to flow through her arms as anticipation flips a switch in her senses. 

 

Now Nicole allows her hands to slide low around Waverly’s hips, resting lightly on the swell of her ass, and just waits for Waverly to steer the ship. Nicole’s already feeling better and Waverly can tell as she slides her hands back across Nicole’s shoulders to interlink at the nape of her neck, drawing Nicole’s mouth down to her own until their lips brush softly together. 

 

“Tell me what you want me to do, babe,” Waverly breathes into her mouth, and Nicole pulls their hips even closer together, ghosting her lips across Waverly’s and over to an ear where she whispers, “I want to watch you.”

 

This is a balm for Nicole, to sit back and guide Waverly through her own pleasure, the sheer joy of bringing her over the edge without anything other than her presence coming into play. Waverly reaches down and unbuttons the few closures that Nicole had managed to engage on the too small pajama top, and walks Nicole backwards with light fingertips on her abdomen, chasing after Nicole’s mouth with barely there kisses, until Nicole feels the edge of the settee against the back of her knees, and drops down onto it. 

 

The pajama top falls loosely open around her body, the black lacy bra fully revealed, and the pajama bottoms are low slung on her hips but high cut in the thigh, leaving Nicole’s long legs on display. She spreads her arms across the back of the couch and considers Waverly; cocking her head to one side, Nicole allows her knees to fall apart and, so situated asks, “Wouldn’t  _ you _ like to change into something else?”

 

“I think I might have something you like,” Waverly says coyly, as she unsnaps her jeans and slides her palm just barely down the front of her pants. She slips her phone out of the back pocket and thumbs down a couple times until a steady beat emerges from the small bluetooth speaker system on the nightstand. 

 

“It just seems that you have a problem with buttons, Nicky, with those tiny pajamas, and I don’t even care what Wynonna was watching in that video. All I could see was your gorgeous body. Are you sure you didn’t buy those pajamas for me?”

 

The lyrics of the song kick in and Nicole recognizes the Pussycat Dolls.    
  


_ I'm telling you loosen up my buttons, baby uh huh _

_ But you keep fronting uh _

_ Saying what you going to do to me uh huh _

_ But I ain't seen nothing uh _

_ I'm telling you loosen up my buttons, baby uh huh _

And Waverly prowls forward a couple steps, crossing her legs and pulling her arms up above her head in a strong reach that highlights her taut abdominal muscles. She dips and rolls her head forward, flipping her hair back and staring at Nicole.

Nicole has nothing but appreciation for the years of dance classes that Waverly took at commuter college, not to mention the many hours of choreography that Waverly did on her own, to music at home, because she simply loves to dance.  And it’s no secret between them that Nicole loves to watch Waverly perform. 

_ I like when the physical _

_ Don't leave me asking for more _

_ I'm a sexy mama _

_ Who knows just how to get what I want _

Waverly cups her own breasts as she moves intentionally into the space between Nicole’s wide sprawl, rotating at the waist to bring her chest closer to Nicole’s face. 

_ What I want to do is spring this on you  _

_ Back up all of the things that I told you  _

“ _ Back up all of the things that I told you _ ,” Waverly sings with a twirl, backing her ass up into Nicole lap, grinding low against her. Nicole keeps her hands flat on her thighs, allowing Waverly to show off for her, but her tongue slips out to wet her lower lip, and she bites it in place, narrowing her eyes appreciatively. 

_ Baby, can't you see _

_ How these clothes are fitting on me _

_ And the heat coming from this beat? _

_ I'm about to blow _

Waverly puts her thumbs into the waistband of her jeans and, cocking her hips side to side, slowly shimmies them down her legs, somehow managing to drop it low enough to push the jeans quickly off her ankles. She kicks them aside without missing a beat, and now Nicole is transfixed by the sight of Waverly in a pair of pink lace Victoria Secret boyshorts. Waverly turns back to face her and shrugs the flannel off her shoulders, capturing it low on her own waist so that her breasts thrust forward. Pulling the shirt off behind herself, Waverly loops it around NIcole’s neck and pulls her forward, allowing Nicole one brief kiss, before tossing the shirt aside. 

“ _ You say you're a big girl _ ,” Waverly sings along to the song, stepping back away from Nicole.

_ But I can't agree _

_ 'Cause the love you said you had _

_ Ain't been put on me _

Waverly runs her hands up her torso to the crop top and slips them under the hem, tugging it up just slightly, teasingly, before moving her hands away and threading her fingers into her hair, closing her eyes, and thrusting her hips towards Nicole. 

At this point it’s a real struggle for Nicole to appear casual. Her breathing is shallow and she can feel how wet she’s getting watching Waverly’s performance. But self control is the name of this game, so she stoically holds her position waiting for whatever comes next. 

_ I wonder _

_ If I'm just too much for you _

_ Wonder _

_ If my kiss don't make you just _

_ Wonder _

Waverly bends at the waist, pushing her ass out and squeezing her breasts between her toned biceps, she pulls Nicole’s knees together with a hand on either side, and straddles Nicole’s lap. She leans into her mouth and boldly runs her tongue along Nicole’s lip. Gaining entrance she allows Nicole a hot kiss full of obvious desire. Waverly smirks at her dirtily. 

“ _ What I got next for you...What you want to do? _ ” Waverly sings, and she returns her hands to the hem of the crop top, slipping it over her head and leaving Nicole, once again, in awe of her girlfriend’s ability to forgo a bra. Waverly’s perfect breasts spring free and she pushes into Nicole so that she can feel the nipples harden against her skin. Waverly leans into Nicole’s ear and asks, “You wanna watch me touch myself? I like your hands so much though, maybe you can help.”

_ Baby, can't you see _

_ How these clothes are fitting on me _

_ And the heat coming from this beat? _

_ I'm about to blow _

Waverly take’s Nicole’s hand and slides it between her legs, so Nicole can feel the heat pooling there as she cups her sex through the boy shorts. Resting her forehead against Nicole’s Waverly breathes out, “Please baby?”

And Nicole can’t resist her when she begs so she presses up lightly with two fingers, drawing an appreciative moan from Waverly, who slides her own palm over Nicole’s stomach and dips her fingers into the waistband of Nicole’s pajama bottoms. 

_ Come on, baby, loosen up my buttons, babe _

_ Loosen up my buttons, babe _

_ Baby, won't you loosen up my buttons, babe? _

Nicole knows the song and Waverly knows that she does, so she catches Waverly’s eye as she sings out the lyrics, then drops her attention to Waverly’s nipple and surrounds it with her mouth. She flicks her tongue around the areola and Waverly forgets to sing, throwing her head back with a gasp as the sensation overtakes her. 

Nicole stops then, not wanting the end to come too quickly, and leans back enough that Waverly remembers what she was doing and with a challenging look at Nicole she slides her hand past both waistbands and spreads two fingers on either side of Nicole’s clit. 

“Are you gonna give up that easy?” Waverly purrs.

“Holy shit,” Nicole grunts, surprised then immediately engaged in drawing the same response out of Waverly. She smoothly slips her hand along the outline of Waverly’s sex, pressing through the underwear, up the front of her body to the top of the boy shorts, where she reverses direction and slides inside. Nicole’s trying to stay focused as she flicks the tip of her middle finger against Waverly’s clit and then dips it down into slick wetness, then back up again to tease around her hardening flesh. She slides her fore and ring fingers along the outside of Waverly and presses in, capturing the middle finger in place and causing Waverly to jolt forward against her hand.

“Ummmh, yeah Nic,” Waverly pants, forgetting herself in the pleasure, and Nicole leans forward and bites softly into Waverly’s collarbone, sucking at the area until it purples under her mouth, teasing and squeezing in Waverly’s underwear as her fingers grow slick with come. 

_ “Am I just too much for you?” _ Nicole quotes the song, pushing herself against Waverly’s hand.  _ “Can’t you see, how these clothes are fitting on me?” _

The tight pajama bottoms are already stretched to the limit against her crotch, and she can swear that in combination with the lacy underwear, they feel tighter still. And Waverly’s hand is captive against her sex, with barely a flex of her fingers needed to send shockwaves of pleasure into Nicole’s belly. 

“I want you inside me,” Waverly pleads, simultaneously thrusting two fingers deep inside Nicole, who groans out her pleasure against Waverly’s chest. She moves from breast to breast, licking and sucking at Waverly’s nipples, tight around Waverly’s slim fingers. 

“Please Ni--,” but Nicole doesn’t allow Waverly even a full sentence before her own fingers are knuckle deep inside Waverly’s heat. She slides a hand down to Waverly’s lower back, and leans her into it, putting the force of her shoulder into her thrusts, trying to stay focused as Waverly grips her tightly around the back of the neck, curling her own fingers to hook inside Nicole in a way that makes her see stars. 

The song has ended and the only sound in the room is grunting as the two of them almost compete to fuck each other senseless. Nicole’s concentration has narrowed to a pinpoint of sensation, just hot pleasure between her legs rendering her incoherent but she hates to lose control so she pulls back just enough that Waverly slips out of her and presses her mouth into Waverly’s, gritting out, “I’m gonna make you come so hard, baby.”

And with a fluid movement, Nicole stands up off the settee and pushes them towards the bed, dropping Waverly down on her back with a squeak of surprise, she grabs Waverly’s shoulder with her free hand and pushes her hip behind her thrusting right hand, straddling Waverly’s thigh and grinding down against her.

Waverly looks up to see Nicole silhouetted  above her, a wildly determined look on her face, mouth slightly agape and her hair like a fiery halo. The position she holds Waverly in presses the heel of Nicole’s hand in delicious friction against Waverly’s sensitive clit, and the length of her fingers into Waverly and it’s too much; with a keening cry of “Oh god!” Waverly clenches around Nicole, coming hard. 

And the satisfaction of having brought her there first overwhelms Nicole, suffused with pride and purpose she succumbs to pleasure, bringing herself over the edge moments later against Waverly’s thigh with a drawn out “Ahhhhhhhh.” 

They rock against each other for a minute, riding out the spasms of pleasure, before Nicole drops next to Waverly on the bed, withdrawing wet fingers, painting Waverly’s abdomen and arms as they clutch at each other in post-coital bliss. 

Nicole’s lips are parted, breathing less heavily now, and she moistens them with the tip of her tongue, rolling her head sideways to look at Waverly with a soft, satisfied grin. 

“There’s my baby,” Waverly smiles at her.

“That was really hot,” Nicole says, “the dance... Have you been saving that for a special occasion?”

Waverly plucks at Nicole’s pajama shirt, which is now twisted awkwardly around Nicole’s upper arms. “You always leave your buttons undone, which I  _ really _ appreciate,” she explains. “And when I saw you tonight in that skimpy pajama top, in your terrible mood,  I knew it was the perfect time for this. So I guess what I’m really saying is,” and she leans off the bed to thump a handily accessible heeled boot against the floor, “THANK YOU WYNONNA.”

Wynonna’s groan of disgust carries up the stairs. “ASSHOLES.” 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Here's another trashy oneshot based on what is apparently my favorite Wynonna Earp trope: Waverly performing for Nicole.  
> You might recognize some things from Corey's Bachelorette Video.  
> Look, let us all bless Nicole Haught for her ongoing war against buttons. Loosen them up girl! 
> 
> Thanks to @comelayinmybed for beta duties and allowing me to associate her name with this kind of smut.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter @LuckyWantsTo if you want to chat or hurl insults.


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